


drift and pull

by slipsthrufingers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Male-Female Friendship, friend breakups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 18:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10769958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipsthrufingers/pseuds/slipsthrufingers
Summary: Losing a friend can be heartbreaking too. Lily finds a sympathetic ear in an unlikely place, and discovers that maybe there are more to the Marauders than she's been led to believe.





	drift and pull

The halls seemed darker now. She knew, logically, they were just as bright as ever, and the charms at work on the torches that lined each corridor were unlikely to have weakened just to suit her mood.

They still seemed darker. Colder, too, though that made more sense. There was an unseasonable wind, blowing in from the north, that rattled the castle walls and had brought with it icy rains. Normally at this time of year, the shores of the great lake were packed with students soaking in the sunshine, relaxing after weeks of gruelling final exams, but they’d all been driven inside by the inclement weather. 

Tonight, everyone was in their common rooms, as they should be. Which made her prefect duties the unpleasant triumvirate of _boring_ , dark and cold. Lily almost wished she would come upon a fourth year couple, necking in one of the classrooms. She could deal with cold and dark, even if the darkness was probably psychosomatic, but boredom was worrisome. The less she had to occupy her brain, the more likely she was to start _thinking_. And if she started _thinking_ then she was likely to head down the pathway of _regret_ , and that was somewhere she really didn’t want to be.

She knew she had made the right decision. Mostly.

She was a strong, confident woman who didn’t deserve to be treated that way. She had done the right thing.

Or had she.

The conversation she’d had with Severus that afternoon kept swirling through her head, no matter how many times she’d tried to put it to the back of her mind, to convince herself she’d made the right decision. She knew, objectively, it was the right thing. He did not respect muggle borns, and no matter how well he might treat her when they were alone, when they were studying, when they were at home on their holidays… If he didn’t respect muggle borns, then there was some part of him that didn’t respect her. It was simple. It wasn’t some part of her she could just simply get rid of. 

What made it worse was the fact she had thought he’d understood her difficulties better than most. For years, he had been the one she’d asked when she’d encountered some inexplicable aspect of the magic world. He had explained Knuts and Sickles and Galleons to her, before her first trip to Diagon Alley, drawing pictures of them on the back of her Hogwarts letter along with the conversion rate, so she wouldn’t get fleeced when buying her school things. He had treated her to her first Chocolate Frog, on the train to Hogwarts many years ago. He hadn’t even minded she hadn’t eaten the thing, as she had been too enamored with the simple charm that kept it animated to even contemplate eating the sweet.

But he had also been the one to explain _why_ that sixth year boy had called her a mudblood when as a second year she made a wrong turn in the potions corridor and ended up in Slughorn’s NEWT class by mistake. She’d known it was an insult by the boy’s tone, but the term itself made no sense. Still didn’t really make sense. Once it came down to it, her blood and the blood of those so called ‘Deatheaters’ was the same deep red.

She sighed and turned into a new corridor. So much for putting it out of her mind. If all this had happened, even a week ago, she could’ve distracted herself with study. But then, if it weren’t for all the excess stress of the exam period, perhaps this never would’ve happened in the first place.

No, no that was wishful thinking. Whether she had admitted it to herself or not, this was not a surprising turn of events. And it wasn’t for any of that Slytherins and Gryffindors can’t be friends nonsense Black and Potter liked to sprout. No, this had been a long time coming. He had been her closest friend for years. It had been a friendship none of her other friends had ever understood. Black and Potter definitely hadn’t understood, not that she would ever call _them_ her friends. But in retrospect, the signs were there. Marlene would happily list out every single one of them if Lily asked, but quite frankly she didn’t particularly want to have all her flaws in judgement laid out in front of her. It wasn’t quite so simple as all that.

As she passed it, a suit of armour twitched its head and looked in her direction and she clutched her wand a little tighter in the folds of her robes. She was used to this sort of thing after five years at Hogwarts, even if it had frightened her when she had first started here. “ _It’s creepy!_ ” she had complained to Severus at the time. “ _It feels like I’m being watched._ ”

“ _It’s just a charm, a security feature._ ” He had said, “ _Just like when museums have security guards standing in the corner of the exhibitions. They are there to make you feel like you’re being watched. Everyone knows they’d be useless if anyone decided to steal anything._ ”

“‘Sup Evans?”

For a heartstopping moment, she was nothing but instinct. She spun around, raised her wand and shot off a stunning spell. Black reacted quickly and ducked behind one of the suits of armour. The spell ricocheted off the metal, red sparks flying wildly, then bounced down the hall before dispersing. 

“ARE YOU MAD?” He shrieked at her at precisely the same time she hollered at him: “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

There was a moment of angry silence, during which Lily felt her heart resume beating. Her skin flushed hot, as embarrassment and rage battled in her mind for her next action. It was a mixture of both that led her to yell at him again.

“WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?”

He emerged from behind the armour, hands still held protectively above his head, as though they would be a sufficient shield charm if she decided to stun him again. When she didn’t curse him, he raised his hands a little higher, this time in surrender, “Would you believe I forgot?”

And then he did the absolute worst thing he could’ve done.

He smiled.

The needle tipped all the way over to rage, all sense of fear and humiliation completely left behind. This was so _typically_ Black! He just didn’t THINK! She could’ve hurt him, or worse, and he was cracking jokes? He thought this was funny? That this was a game? Severus was so right about him and Potter, they never took ANYTHING seriously. They were a disgrace to the school. What if she had hurt him? Did he really think turning on his damn charisma would distract her and make her forget all of her senses? Severus had ranted about that exact same thing just the other day, when Black and Potter had arrived late to Charms. Cocky bastards. Black was a damn sight lucky she’d missed. On any other given day, it never would’ve happened. If she hadn’t been so distracted…

Her brain finally caught up with her thoughts, and she felt her stomach fall out of her torso and a cool flush rolled across her skin, which moments ago had been so feverish with righteous anger. She felt like a puppet whose strings had been severed unexpectedly. The fight was gone, and in its place was an odd, exhausted nausea. She lowered her wand.

Black’s smile faded. He tilted his head a little to the side, the way her old neighbour’s dog would if it saw something that confused it. “You alright?” He asked slowly.

She swallowed, because suddenly her mouth was filled with too much saliva. “Where did you come from?” She asked again, but this time her voice was flat.

Black reached into his robes and pulled out a small Honeydukes bag. He held it up and shook it a little. “Hogsmeade.”

“At night?”

Black shrugged. “I was out of Droobles. Remus wanted some chocolate. Two birds, one stone.”

“Where’s Potter?”

“Back in the common room, I suspect.” She must’ve looked skeptical, because he added: “Contrary to the rumours, we aren’t actually attached at the hip. He wanted an early night.”

“How?”

“Well he’d probably hop into bed and close the curtains--”

“No, how did you get to Hogsmeade?”

“Secret passageway.” He said, and then without acknowledging the oddness of that particular revelation, he stepped out from behind the armour and pocketed his sweets again. “Why the interrogation, Evans?”

All at once, exhaustion overcame her, and if she didn’t know any better she would’ve been certain someone had cursed her. But no, this wasn’t magic. It was just… She was tired. She didn’t want to be here. Not patrolling the hallways, not speaking to Black… Possibly not even at Hogwarts. 

“It’s my job...” she began, but trailed off. There wasn’t any point in explaining the importance of following rules to Black. She’d fought that battle too many times before, and she had never won. He didn’t have the empathy, and she didn’t have the energy. Finally, she turned her back on him, aiming to continue her patrols, even if it was blatantly evident her head was not really in it, tonight. Almost as an afterthought, she said over her shoulder. “Just go back to the common room.”

She was halfway down the corridor, well on her way to the Transfiguration classroom, when she realised that Black chose to follow her instead. She began to walk a little faster.

It didn’t seem to deter him. He matched her step for step.

“Just leave me alone, Black.” She finally said, turning the corner.

“See, any other night, and I would definitely do that.” Black said, pulling up alongside her. “In fact, I pride myself in avoiding you as often as I can, especially if I’m coming back from somewhere both you and I know I shouldn’t be.”

She didn’t respond. Perhaps if she ignored him, didn’t react, he would lose interest and go away.

“But in the five years that you and I have known one another, you have never _ever_ turned down a chance to get me into trouble, and you have _never_ backed away from a fight where you knew you were in the right and the rules were on your side. This is remarkably uncharacteristic behaviour from you Evans, and so I figure I have a civic responsibility to follow you, because you _must_ be under the influence of some mind altering charm.”

He grabbed her by the elbow and stopped in place, jolting her back a little. Then he twisted her arm in such a way to turn her to face him directly. It didn’t exactly hurt her, but he wasn’t gentle.

“Let go,” She said, but she was surprised by the serious expression he wore. There was no levity in his eyes, no smile on his lips.

“Confundus charm, maybe. Though your eyes don’t have that tell-tale glaze to them.” His eyes searched her own, scanning her face, all the while keeping a firm grip on her so she couldn’t keep walking on. “Maybe Imperius. No way to tell that one.”

She sent a withering glare at him. 

“Polyjuice is an option as well. Though I don’t know why someone would go to the effort of brewing a potion for a month, just to spend an hour or two doing your prefect duties.”

“Let. Go.” She said firmly, then when he didn’t, she wrenched her shoulder downwards, but Black held on more tightly than she expected, and pulled her close to him. She reached her other hand into the pocket of her robes to get her wand, but he was faster, grabbing her wrist in a stiff grip. 

“I’ll let go if you talk to me.” Sirius said, in an infuriatingly calm and reasonable tone. As if she were some sort of vicious, rabid animal, and he was her handler, tasked with keeping a level head.

“I swear, if you don’t let me go…” She threatened

“You’ll what? Hex me? Hit me? Rat me out to McGonagall?” His voice was harder now.

“Fuck off,” She spat, trying again to pull away, but he was bigger and stronger than her, and he wasn’t letting go. 

“There it is.” He said, victoriously. “There it is. There is that emotional Evans we’re so used to seeing. Get angry, get it out.” 

“You wouldn’t understand,” She said, finally.

“Why, because it’s about Snape?”

“How…?”

And finally, he let her go.

She immediately took several steps away from him, and retrieved her wand from her robes. Her wrist ached, and her elbow was sure to be bruised tomorrow.

“I’m not an idiot.” He said, “You broke it off with him, didn’t you.”

Lily shook her head, “We were never…”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean it like that. You’re not friends anymore.”

“No.” She said, “No, not anymore.”

“It’s about time.” Sirius said, and her anger spiked again.

“See, this is why I’m not going to talk about it with you.”

Sirius actually took a step back, and held out his arms in surrender. “Fine. I take it back… Explain it to me.”

It would’ve been so easy for her to just jinx him on the spot. She probably should’ve. But instead she began to talk.

“Did you know we grew up together? His parents live two blocks away from mine, in Cokeworth… There was this hill in between that I would play on with my sister, and when I began to manifest magic…” She paused, unwilling to go into detail about that side of her friendship with Snape. For all that Black was giving her a listening ear right now, she wasn’t sure she could trust that he wouldn’t turn her knowledge of Snape’s childhood back on him. And for all her hurt, she couldn’t do that. 

“Put yourself in my shoes. Imagine how you would feel if Potter slowly began to spend time with people who hate your very existence. That he spent years claiming that his friendship with you was more important. At first you thought it was just a phase, but then you realise, after a while, that these friends aren’t going away. That there really is some part of you, some indivisible part of your identity, that disgusts him. That he hates, he despises. That this won’t just be something that goes away. So you decide, after defending him one too many times, that enough is enough...”

At some point during her speech, she had stopped looking at Sirius, and had turned her gaze upon some inconsequential part of the stone wall. She’d also relinquished her grip on the wand in her pocket. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had both told him too much, and not enough. She felt bared, raw, and yet it was almost as though this need to divulge was catching, because she felt excuses bubble in her, memories that wanted to be divulged to Sirius, to contextualise all she felt for Snape. And yet, she was acutely at a loss for words. How could she ever explain the intricacies of a ten year long friendship in a short conversation? How could she explain the grief she felt, and the anger, and the shame and the bitterness, and the heartbreak. And to Sirius, of all people-- possibly the person in the school who despised Snape the most. So she fell silent.

After what could’ve been ten seconds, or ten minutes, Sirius finally broke the silence. “Give me your wrist,” he said.

“Why?”

“So I can heal the bruising. I shouldn’t’ve grabbed you so hard.”

She held out her wrist, and watched as he circled his own wand precisely over it, muttering a soft incantation she recognised as a fairly difficult healing spell. The red fingerprints that would’ve darkened to purple by the next day faded, along with the residual ache and stiffness.

“Where did you learn that?”

“James is clumsy and plays Quidditch. You pick up a few things. Your elbow?” 

There was something about how he said it… She was sure he was lying. But she gave him her other arm anyway, and helped to roll back her sleeve. Who was she to judge him and what he felt like sharing tonight? She watched as he repeated the charm, then pocketed his wand. She bent and stretched her arm experimentally. He might be lying, but she couldn’t fault his technique.

“Thanks,” She muttered, rubbing at the skin at her elbow. It tingled a little, but otherwise felt fine.

“Don’t thank me. I hurt you, it’s the least I could do.” 

She nodded, faintly aware, perhaps for the first time, that there was a bit more to Sirius Black than practical jokes and hair pomade. 

“Black! Evans!” A voice shrieked from the other end of the corridor and they both jumped. Professor McGonagall stood there, silhouetted by the torch light in her tartan dressing gown, looking more cross than Lily had ever seen her.

“Evans caught me sneaking down to the kitchens, Professor.” Sirius said, surprising her a little. “She was bringing me to you for punishment.”

“That’s right.” She nodded, doing her best to roll with the lie, knowing, _knowing_ , that McGonagall most likely would see straight through the deceit. A silence stretched out between the trio, long enough for Lily to be certain she’d be handing back her Prefect’s badge.

“I don’t think anyone’s caught you out of bed at night since you were a second year. You’re losing your touch, Black,” The professor said dryly, directing her stare at the boy. But Sirius seemed to take it all in his stride. 

“What can I say?” He shrugged, artfully, and tossed her a wry grin, putting on an unbelievable performance for the professor, “Lily is a better prefect than I gave her credit for. I shouldn’t underestimate her.”

“A week’s worth of detentions is the usual punishment for this sort of thing, not that it’s ever deterred you.” McGonagall said briskly. “My office, 6pm tomorrow night. Be late at your own peril.”

“Yes, professor. And I’ll be sure not to get caught next time.”

“Now get back to the tower. Miss Evans, I think I can take it from here.” Lily opened her mouth to protest, but true to form, McGonagall didn’t let her get a word in edgewise. “Forgive me for being blunt, but you look dreadful. I think you’d benefit from an early night. Just escort Mr Black back to the common room, and consider your duties for the evening fulfilled.”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Lily nodded, “Yes, Professor. Thank you.”

Together, she and Sirius returned to the corridor filled with suits of armour, but they walked in silence. Their footsteps echoed in time with the soft creak of the animated helmets twisting to follow them on their path, but they didn’t speak. 

At one point, Sirius stopped in front of a giant tapestry depicting a typical, pastoral scene. He pulled it up from the wall to reveal a gap in the wall, leading to a flight of stairs. “Shortcut,” He muttered. This was about the same place that she’d been standing when he’d appeared out of nowhere, and some of the puzzle pieces began to fall into place. When she looked to him for confirmation, he shrugged, half-heartedly and waved her through.

They emerged onto the fifth floor corridor, from behind a similar tapestry that was only a few minutes walk from the portrait of the Fat Lady. Lily filed it away for later. It never hurt to know the quickest way to get around the castle.

They rounded the final corner, to see Potter standing just in front of the portrait, his hands buried deeply in his robes, which bulged oddly over one hip. 

“Was going to come find--” Potter said to Black, but was cut off quickly with his friend’s quick summary of the evening’s events.

“McGonagall got me.”

“Ugh, how long.”

“Everyday for a week.” Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

“Light, all things considered.” Potter said. “Did you make it to--?”

Sirius didn’t need to let him finish his sentence. He pulled the bag of sweets from his pocket and offered them to his friend. “Yeah. Droobles?”

It all seemed entirely too convenient for Lily.

“Where have you been all night?” She asked.

“Doing homework in the dorm with Peter,” Potter replied, in that smooth way that only infuriated her more because she knew it covered up a lie she’d never be able to prove.

She persisted anyway: “How come you didn’t go to Hogsmede with Black here?”

“Contrary to common knowledge, we’re not actually attached at the hip. Sirius is his own man, he can make his own choices.”

Sirius coughed, and physically stepped in between Lily and his friend. “I think we all need some rest. _Cumquat jam_.”

The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and Sirius stepped back, gesturing for Lily to head up first. For a moment, she stayed resolutely still, glaring at the black haired boys who obviously were conspiring _some_ fresh new trouble. But she made the mistake of making eye contact with the shorter of the two. Sirius held her gaze, then carefully nodded at the open portrait door. He was telling her to let it go.

Fine. But just this once. She launched herself through the portrait hole, and resisted the urge to glare back over her shoulder. The common room itself was about as busy as usual. Some third years were in a corner playing exploding snap, and sitting in front of the fire were the other conspirators. Remus seemed to be dozing in the armchair, looking pale and watery, while Peter was absorbed in a stack of textbooks and parchment. Next to him were other papers and books. The tell-tale peacock feather quill that Potter had taken to using during exams, claiming it was a family good-luck charm, was sitting on top of the stack. 

Lily breezed through up to her dorm, glad to leave the night behind her. She spent the next hour or so determined not to give either of those boys any more thought. She showered, and put effort into brushing and drying her hair before she plaited it in the usual way for sleeping. She tidied up her corner of her dorm, returning borrowed items to her dorm mates, packing away her things into her trunk in preparation for the return trip home the following week. 

While ferreting underneath her bed, she found a book she’d borrowed from the communal bookshelf in the common room several months back. It was a book of magical fables that it seemed every magical child had had read to them when they were young. _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. The stories were cute, though a little morbid in places like all good fables. They were the sort of stories she’d probably read to her children, alongside The Brother’s Grimm.

She brushed the dust from the cover and padded down the stairs, intent on returning the book to the shelf before she finally attempted sleep. But despite the now late hour, when usually the common room was deserted, familiar voices wafted up quietly and made her pause on the stairs.

“--never really thought about it that way,” Potter said softly. She barely recognised his voice, he was normally so boisterous and loud, it seemed impossible to imagine him whispering.

“All I know is, I’d be dealing with it a lot worse if you hurt me like he did her.” Sirius replied, after a long silence. “The last thing she needs is you crowding her right now.”

“Alright. If you say so.” Potter said, and there was something in his tone of voice that made Lily wish she could see his face. 

“Thanks, mate,” said Sirius. A companionable silence stretched out between them, and Lily could hear the soft scratching of quills on parchment. Classes were over-- were they getting a head start on their summer homework?

“You still coming over to mine over the break?” Potter asked, still in that same quiet way.

Sirius took a little longer to reply, “If it were up to me I’d be spending the whole time at yours.”

“You know mum would be okay with it.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to leave Reggie alone with her… He’s only thirteen... He might still...” Sirius said. Lily had forgotten he had a brother. In Slytherin, if she recalled correctly.

“I get it. Come when you can. No need to owl in advance, just show up. Anytime. I mean it.” Potter said, and the sincerity in his voice was plain.

She retreated back up the stairs quietly. She’d return the book in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't exactly go where I thought it would when I started, but I'm also comfortable with what I ended up with. I wanted a fic that dealt with Lily's friendship with Snape in a way that didn't invalidate either, but that also didn't glorify Snape's feelings for Lily. And since I couldn't find one when I was looking... I wrote one myself. It's been a _very_ long time since I dipped my feet in this fandom, so feedback is welcome!
> 
> Dedicated to Raisin.


End file.
